


reunited

by themoongirl



Category: WTFock | Skam (Belgium)
Genre: Cuddling & Snuggling, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-28
Updated: 2019-11-28
Packaged: 2021-02-26 05:40:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,016
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21598570
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/themoongirl/pseuds/themoongirl
Summary: Sander is standing there looking like he always does with his leather jacket, a Bowie shirt underneath, and his hair ruffled. But there’s something off. His face has changed.(AKA, how I imagine the reunion to go while we wait for said reunion. One day we will see Sander again. One day.)
Relationships: Sander Driesen/Robbe IJzermans
Comments: 1
Kudos: 253





	reunited

It’s 3am and Robbe is awake.

Had this been happening often? Yes. Did it get much, much worse? Also, yes. Robbe had hit a new record last week, not sleeping for almost 3 days. He had drifted in and out, but from the moment those guys outside of the bar had thrown the first punch, Robbe hadn’t been able to sleep properly.

He is doing better, though. Falling asleep is the worst part. His thoughts never stop. They keep going and going and going. And then when he thinks about his brain, he thinks about what Sander had said about thoughts. And then he thinks about Sander. And then his heart clenches in his chest. And then he thinks about how safe he had felt in his arms, and how he hasn’t felt quite safe since, and he wonders where Sander is, and if he's sad, or if he is awake as well. One thought leads to the next.

It doesn’t stop.

Robbe’s eyes grow heavy, and he feels himself slipping, finally, into sleep.

But then-

His phone is buzzing.

Robbe’s eyes open immediately, his eyebrows furrowing in confusion. He rolls over and grabs his phone.

 **Sander:** are you awake?

Robbe’s heart starts racing. His eyes squint, making sure he’s not hallucinating. 

**Robbe:** yes

Robbe waits. _Active now._ Robbe sees the typing bubble and waits and waits and waits. The typing bubble keeps disappearing, then writing again, then disappearing. Robbe can’t understand what he’s feeling, but his heart is telling him something is wrong, that Sander isn’t quite okay. He texts again.

 **Robbe:** i’m here

 **Sander:** can i come over?

 **Sander:** sorry, i know it’s late

 **Robbe:** yes…. is everything ok?

Robbe waits. Sander goes offline. Robbe gets up and throws his sweatpants on, ruffles his hair in the mirror and tries to calm his anxiety. A million thoughts go through his head. Is Sander okay? Is he hurt? A rush of excitement goes through Robbe’s chest. The little things come rushing back. Sander’s mouth brushing Robbe’s ear, whispering sweet nothings at the bar. Sander, being slightly taller, looking down at Robbe with playful eyes. Sander’s hand in Robbe’s hair, his lips at the pool, his heartbeat as Robbe laid on his chest.

But then- then he remembers seeing Sander kiss Britt.

Robbe can’t help but stop in his tracks. He had done so much the past few days to feel better about himself, and he had hit a few bumps along the way, but he was ultimately in a better place. The most important people in his life know that he likes guys. He’s going to start therapy. His mom will be home by Christmas. Things are better.

Robbe can’t help but feel that Sander has the power to completely destroy him. Robbe had fallen so hard so fast, and seeing Sander with Britt? It almost killed him.

Literally.

Robbe must have sat there internally panicking for a long time because suddenly, his phone is buzzing.

 **Sander:** I’m outside your door

Robbe is up in a second.

Robbe reaches the apartment door and stops. He breathes. Once. Twice.

And then he opens it.

Robbe is already done for.

Sander is standing there looking like he always does with his leather jacket, a Bowie shirt underneath, and his hair ruffled. But there’s something off. His face has changed. Deep, dark bags sit under his eyes and- his eyes. They look different. More sad. He still holds himself highly, but his shoulders are slumped like they’re holding the weight of the world. And he’s staring right into Robbe like he can see every part of him, and Robbe suddenly feels very vulnerable. As if Sander is understanding everything that Robbe has been through the past two weeks and saying _‘I know. I’ve been here too.’_

And this overwhelming feeling hits. Suddenly everything that is complicated between them just… isn’t. Robbe doesn’t care that Sander kissed Britt, or that they were beat up, or that the future is unknown. Right now, in this moment, none of that matters.

So that’s why Robbe is on Sander in seconds, wrapping his arms around him and gently squeezing. Robbe is burying his face in Sander’s chest and inhaling him, breathing him in, and Robbe feels the weirdest most beautiful rush of relief when Sander squeezes back.

When Robbe pulls back, Sander keeps his hands on Robbe’s waist and his eyes are closed. He looks in pain, as if Robbe’s touch is absolutely prevalent to his survival. Robbe cups Sander’s face in his hands and places a gentle kiss on Sander’s lips. Sander kisses back before resting his forehead on Robbe. And then- something snaps. They kiss again, harder, faster, deeper. They are kisses that hold many words, words that remain unsaid, trapped in the space between them. They both have the other’s hair tangled between their fingers and it’s desperate, it’s passionate, it’s defining.

Robbe gets Sander into his room, closing the door behind him. They barely speak. Robbe gives Sander a pair of sweatpants and a spare shirt to change into, and soon they are laying under the covers. They lay facing each other with their legs entangled and Sander closes his eyes for a second. Robbe stares at his face and runs a gentle hand through his hair, then uses his thumb to caress Sander’s cheek. Sander opens his eyes again and looks at Robbe, and then he is wrapping Robbe in his arms. 

Sander traces a hand up and down Robbe’s back, and Robbe uses one hand to cup Sander’s neck. They breathe. 

“Thank you,” Sander whispers. “I can explain everything.”

“You can. In the morning.”

Robbe doesn’t ask if anything specific led Sander here because they can deal with that later. The darkness engulfs them in a protective layer, and the ticking of the clock on the wall sounds like a brutal promise. They can deal with anything in the morning. All that matters is this moment, this minute. 

Robbe feels the safest he’s felt since the moment before he lay in the alleyway. 

Robbe feels home.


End file.
